The Family Tree
by WhenTheSkyeQuakes
Summary: Fitz slammed the file on the table, eyes both heartbroken and enraged all at once. "Is this true?" / She steeled herself. "How did you think I survived six months on an alien planet? Held my breath long enough to drag you out of the pod?" / "It . . . It was dumb luck. Not - not this." He gestured to the folder lying in front of him. "Not another lie," / "It's not. He- He's my dad,"


**Well, here it is! The one shot that got in the way of Before You Go being updated . . . Sorry :( I'm running on fumes lately, not to mention writers block. Think of this as a way for me to get over it!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Fitz's face contorted from curiosity to shock to horror, though whether any of it was geared toward her or the file he was holding was unknown.

Jemma licked her dry lips with an equally chalky tongue, breathing in terrified anticipation. _This is a mistake . . ._ your _mistake._

He wasn't meant to see the file. Never, in a million years, was he meant to touch that pad of paper. It was everything she'd hidden from him - for _years -_ in high definition. In confirmation.

Her heart hammered against her rib cage, blood roaring in her ears. All of the pros and cons she'd debated before hiding this from him flew back into her mind, rattling around like a pinball machine.

His breathing was rapid and disbelieving when he finally settled his gaze on her. "Is this - Is this true?"

Jemma swallowed tightly, clenching her fingers tightly against the lab bench she was leaning on. "Fitz, I - you weren't supposed to-"

The engineer slammed the file on the table, eyes both heartbroken and enraged all at once. "Is this true?"

She steeled herself. "How did you think I survived six months on an alien planet? Held my breath long enough to drag you out of the pod?"

Fitz took in a breath, one hand pinching his nose while the other settled on his hip. "It . . . It was dumb luck. Not - not _this."_ He gestured helplessly to the folder lying in front of him. "Not another lie,"

Jemma blinked against the tears in her eyes. She would _not_ cry. Not at a time like this. "It's not a lie. He's . . ." She sucked in a breath. "He's my dad,"

Fitz pursed his lips, trying not to let his tears spill over. "So you're . . .you're what, Jemma? What are you?"

She couldn't take the high road. She couldn't. So she went for the low blow. It was a cheap shot in the dark, something to cover her bum in whatever the heck this was.

"I'm your best friend," she offered weakly, staring straight at him.

His eyes sparked angrily, betrayal evident. A beat passed, and finally he seemed to deflate a little. Fitz took in a breath, tracing a finger over the SSR logo imprinted on the front of the file. "Y'know, there was a time I might've believed that. But friends . . ." He flung the packet off the table, papers scattering in his anger. "Friends don't do this to one another. And not when . . ." He trailed off, the first tear leaking onto his cheek. His posture was suddenly resigned as he turned around and stalked out of the lab.

Jemma was watched him go through her tears, torn between wondering what his unfinished sentence was and what she could do to fix this. Finally, she let out a shaky breath she didn't know she had been holding and began to collect the papers dusted across the lab.

Her hands shook as she reached the single fateful page that had both started and ended it all.

* * *

 _Name: Jemma Louise Carter-Rogers_

 _Alias(es) : Jemma Louise Simmons_

 _Date Of Birth: August 18, 1945_

 _Affiliation(s): SHIELD, SSR, Stark Industries_

 _Current Status: Active_

 _Mother: Margaret Carter_

 _Father: Steven Rogers_

* * *

Jemma doesn't see him for the next two days. Forty eight hours of refusals to grab a cuppa or just plain talk. Fitz remained steadily silent through all of her attempts to enter his bunk.

Day three comes to an end at the same time Jemma's patience does. She may be a grown woman, but that doesn't mean she can't play dirty.

So late after most of the Playground has settled in for the night, Jemma parks herself outside Fitz's door with a bag of crisps and waits. It's far outside of her usual diet, but it seems this is just one of those days that only junk food can help to alleviate.

She's half way through the package when the door she's leaning against opens and plops her squarely at Fitz's feet. Jemma does her best to look innocent, but it's a bit difficult when you're curled up in a blanket and looking quite at home with potato chip crumbs sprinkled across your cheeks.

There's a moment of awkward silence before Jemma offers a guilty smile. "Hi,"

Fitz blinks once at her before sighing. "Come on,"

He turns and heads further into his bunk, Jemma scrambling to her feet and dusting off the crumbs as she padded along behind him.

His bed is misshapen, the result of a few sleepless nights. Clothes were scattered around, which was unusual. Though Fitz may be occasionally absentminded, he was usually rather neat. But in the dim light from the single lamp, Jemma can tell he's shaken.

He gestured to the bed, sitting beside her in the silence that stretched on.

Jemma cleared her throat at the same instant Fitz spoke. "You're his daughter,"

Their eyes met, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but she gestured for him to continue.

"You're _Captain America's daughter,"_ his eyes were wide with both hurt and curiosity.

Jemma nodded, dropping their eye contact. "Yes. Him and Peggy Carter, which you know."

She could tell from her peripheral vision that he was staring at her. Jemma swallowed nervously.

"So you're . . . You're what, like a hundred years old? And you didn't even _tell_ me?"

"Well what was I supposed to do?" Jemma burst out. "Just a normal day at the Academy, I'll just drop the bombshell! 'Hey Fitz, you know those parents I never took you to see? they're America's golden boy and the founder of the organization we work for!'" Her nose was crinkled up in that way he secretly found adorable, and he tugged at his collar nervously.

Jemma waited as Fitz's silence dragged on. Looking from the corner of her eye, he seemed tired. _Betrayed,_ her mind supplied.

She sighed. "And no, I'm not a century old relic, thank you very much. I'm seventy. Though my biological age, as much as I can tell, is around twenty five. I haven't much aged since I turned twenty." She murmured the last bit thoughtfully, running her fingers through the roots of her hair.

Fitz stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. "You . . . You seem very calm about all of this,"

Jemma rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Well I have had a few decades to cope with it. Speaking of which," she boxed him playfully in the shoulder. "How are you holding up? Other than feeling betrayed?"

He grinned, staring at the far wall. "Alright, I guess. Though I'm still beyond amazed you kept this from me. You're a terrible liar, y'know,"

"That was the one thing Mum always chided me about," She swatted at him playfully, relief pooling in her stomach. _Maybe this will turn out alright after all._

A comfortable silence settled between them, Jemma lost with a bittersweet smile on her face. After over a decade of friendship, she could finally confide in him. Though her big reveal had _not_ gone as she'd planned - considering that she had, well, actually planned it (which she hadn't) - it seemed alright in the end.

"Are we . . ." She started off hesitantly. "Are we okay?"

Fitz reached out for her hand on the mattress between them, threading his fingers with hers. "'O course."

Jemma let out a short, breathy laugh and scooted closer so she could lean her head on his shoulder. "Good," she mumbled. "Because I don't think I could ever lose you again,"

He grinned softly into her hair, breathing in the homey scent of her shampoo. "I know,"

Before she knew what was happening, her head had tilted back and his had tilted forward. She was breathing the same air as him now, warm and comforting. His eyes were bright yet dark with an emotion she couldn't name all at once. She kept the connection as he finally - _finally_ \- tilted his lips down to cover hers.

Fitz was warm and sweet and comforting, something that Will's chapped lips never were. He ghosted over her mouth for an instant before she pressed up more insistently, bring a hand up to wind in his curls.

He pulled back for air once before diving right back in, capturing her mouth with his sweet warmth once more. She startled, gasping in a breath before nipping lightly at his lower lip.

That movement seemed to do it as he jerked back, leaning forward so he could cover his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, Jems. I didn't mean to - with Will, and I know you're waiting for him," he sighed, tugging at his shortened curls. "I didn't mean to push."

Jemma pulled his hands from his hair so she hold them in her lap, stroking lightly over his knuckles. "Oh, Fitz . . ." It was a phrase she'd repeated countless times, but this time there was a smile in her voice.

He looked up at her, dumbly uttering nothing but a confused, "huh?"

She giggled softly, squeezing his hands. "You really don't get it, do you?" At his questioning stare, she pulled him back onto the bed so he was laying nestled into the pillows. Jemma slid in beside him, turning so they were face to face. Fitz tried to resist, but Jemma held on tight.

"Let me tell you a story," she began, rubbing at his palms so her attention was focused solely on the action. "After Dad went down, Mum was all alone. She tried the apple pie jobs that all the other women were working, but it never felt right. After I was born, she went back to the SSR. All the men there treated her like a PA - except one. He joined her on all her schemes with Mr. Jarvis, breaking the law a few times while they were at it." She smiled fondly at the memory, gazing off into space.

"Let me guess," Fitz broke in. "He's the one who stole away with _the_ Peggy Carter,"

Jemma ignored him save for a wider smile. "After all their adventures, he tried to ask Mum on a date. She refused, and he, not being able to bear it, moved to the other side of the country. They barely spoke outside of professional topics.

"Time went on and soon Mum was needed out there for a case. While she was there, she met a different man - a scientist. He asked her out, and this time she agreed," Jemma pursed her lips. "He was a good man, she said. And he was. He was a way to help her forget Daniel, her original partner in crime. He was a consolation prize."

"But soon Mum realized that scientist wasn't who she really loved. He was a good man, of course. But he wasn't Daniel. In truth, the man she truly loved was the original. Her Daniel." Jemma finally paused, allowing a slightly nostalgic smile to take over. "Do you see now, Fitz? You understand, don't you?" Her voice quieted at the end, waiting for his reaction.

He was silent for a a moment. "So Will . . . He's just the - the consolation prize?"

She laughed lightly. "Yes, of course! I loved him - I still do, in a way. But I don't - and didn't - ever love him like I -" she paused to take in a deep breath. "I love you, Fitz,"

She was frozen against him, waiting breathlessly for his response. It didn't come for a beat, but when it did, it wasn't what she was expecting.

He blew out a quick breath. "And . . . And how does this story end?"

Jemma grinned so wide she absently wondered if her face might crack. She sat up and swung a leg over Fitz's waist so she could sit atop him. "With a snog in the middle of the office." Her confidence broke a little, her smile dipping unsurely. "I-If that's alright . . ."

Fitz grabbed her firmly at the waist, sitting up lightning fast so he could slam his lips to hers, muttering an "I love you" to her mouth. "That's more than alright," he breathed as they pulled apart. "My only regret is this isn't exactly an office,"

She hummed with a grin, tugging his lips back to hers. "I suppose we'll just have to make due then, hm?"

He smirked. "Yes, if you're not so old fashioned that you need to wait for the wedding,"

She nipped at his lip in reply.

* * *

"Have you ever met him?" Fitz asks later, running a hand through her short curls as they lay tucked together under the sheets. "Your dad?"

Jemma sighed blissfully into his ministrations, leaning back to allow him better access to her scalp. "No, I'm afraid. I don't even believe he knows I exist. Mum hasn't exactly been . . ." She trailed off. ". . . All there."

He hummed. "I guess that's something we both have in common - absent fathers." He thought a moment. "Though I'm sure yours would have been there if he could have been."

Jemma leaned up to plant a kiss on his jaw. "Maybe. But I know one thing for sure,"

"Hmm?"

"Our dads missed a hell of a lot,"

* * *

 **I feel like this is the crappiest writing I've ever put out :-/ And it's a ridiculously random plot . . . Hope it was okay at best. I'm in the dumps lately . . .**

 **I'm on Tumblr, if you wanna chat! My user is /WhenTheSkyeQuakes. Shoot me a message if you ever want to throw around some ideas :) I'll also take prompts!**

 **Enjoy your week! 3**


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